Lost

The Abduction

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Jason's POV:

          I made a mistake. That was my first thought as I felt the gun at the back of my head, the cool steel freezing my scalp. Or maybe that was the fear that spread over my body. One minute I was walking home from a bar after my 21st birthday party and the next I'm pulled into an alley black as pitch by unknown hands. They shoved me up against the wall and here I was, with the gun against my head for god knows how long. Every minute feels like an hour until a sharp voice shatters the silence and I jump 10 feet. "Turn around." It wasn't a very loud or even a very intimidating voice, but the authority was there, and I turned around without hesitation, though I did it slowly so they wouldn't shoot. Before me, was Angel.

          He wasn't as tall as he looked in the few photos people had managed to catch of him, but it was definitely him. I've looked over those photos thousands of times, searching for the ever elusive Angel, the man behind the mask. As a journalist, getting the story on him would've made me a legend. And here he was, right in front of me, 5'8 and kinda scruffy to be honest. He had short black hair, but not short enough that he couldn't style it if he wanted to, though right now it was everywhere, and a little bit of blood caked into it. It seems he'd just come from the crime scene I'd been reporting about his most recent shoot out. And sure enough...

          "I saw you reporting writing the story for what happened. In fact I see you everywhere that involves me." Angel got close to my face, so close I could smell the slight scent of mint from his breath and the feathers on his angelic mask almost brushed my cheek. "Why?" Honestly that was probably the best question someone had asked me in a long time. So simple, yet with so much attached.

          "I'm a journalist. That's what I do." It was a simple answer, and partially the truth. I couldn't say "I'm obsessed with you. I wanted to find you, to know everything about you." to a crime lord. "Then why don't you ever seem as fascinated with other cases. I see you on the news, always looking bored." Angel sneers and yanked my bag off my shoulder. Inside, he found my notebooks, several of which were labelled Angel in big bold letters, where i'd detailed every crime scene from the last 4 years involving him, with drawing and plenty of pictures, the one from today on the last pages. I'd often written "Where are you?" across a few of the pages, expressing my random ponderings as I'd detailed everything.

          Angel glanced over them for a bit before stuffing them back into my bag and throwing it over his own shoulder. "Get in the car." He motioned to the black van. I walked over slowly and got in the back. The minute I did, the door slammed shut and gas flooded into the back. I could hear it just before darkness.